


Underwear First

by Prim_the_Amazing



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Crossdressing, Incest, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Public Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5356388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro does not talk about it with you before taking action. He doesn’t so much as warn you, much less ask your opinion. But that’s fine, you can take it. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but as you look at the ‘present’ laid out nice and clear for you on your bed you can feel your face warming up ridiculously quickly.</p><p>-</p><p>Dave tries out a new outfit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underwear First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turntechnologic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechnologic/gifts).



> Here are links to pictures of the clothes Dave is wearing if that'll make things easier for you. 
> 
> http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/86zgmp-l-610x610-dress-pink-cute-frilly-lolita-kawaii-desu.jpg 
> 
> http://image.rakuten.co.jp/hanahanahana/cabinet/img59917939.jpg
> 
> https://encryptedtbn0.gstatic.com/imagesq=tbn:ANd9GcQ6prDZstKAI8xf3NrUrm3kucvqPcEkMdPEiBnCdAFSnoP0i-LWPg (This link isn't working properly, and I can't seem to repair it. You will just have to use your imaginations and my words as inspiration, dear readers!)

Bro does not talk about it with you before taking action. He doesn’t so much as warn you, much less ask your opinion. But that’s fine, you can take it. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but as you look at the ‘present’ laid out nice and clear for you on your bed you can feel your face warming up ridiculously quickly.

There is a frilly, pink dress laid out very neatly on top of your covers. Right on top of it is lingerie similarly laid out and it is, similarly, just as feminine and inevitably sexual. There are a pair of shoes sitting by the foot of your bed. It all matches. Ironically, you’re sure. It’s painfully obvious what he wants you to do with all of this, namely put it on. Of course you can handle putting on a dress (and some other stuff), girls do it all the time.

You spend at least ten minutes staring at it before you move a muscle. Focus on the clothes, the motions and steps you have to take to put them on. Ignore the context.

Shades first, pulling your shirt off is a pain while wearing them. Shirt. Shoes. Next, pants. Unbutton, unzip, and pull down. Simple. You do this on a regular basis. Your hands want to linger a bit when you grab the waistband of your boxers, want to stall. Well, fuck those pussies. You’re a Strider. Your boxers hit the floor.

Underwear (the worst one) first. You pick up a pink pair of panties, holding them only by the tips of your index finger and thumb, like it’s a dead bird you have to reluctantly remove from the roof. It’s just shy of being outright transparent, and has bow at the front. The white, frilly lace is the worst part though. It runs along the top edge in a thin enough line, but then it decides to take a turn for the dramatics. Like a wedding veil thrown back from a blushing brides face, the lace runs down the middle of the ass. It calls to mind the term ‘ass jabot’ which is something you just now made up.

You put it on. It feels weird. Unlike a boxer it doesn’t let Dave junior dangle around wild and free, but instead hugs it tight against you, leaving some very obvious bulges ruining the ‘pretty Lolita’ image you think Bro is going for here. The fabric feels thin and soft, and you somehow feel more vulnerable than when you were completely naked.

Ugh, you’re taking too long. Bro must have heard you come home and is likely impatiently waiting for you. Ha, who are you kidding, he’ll be a stoic faced bastard as usual.

You move onto the totally unnecessary bra. It kind of reminds you of an unusually kinky tube top. No straps, made to just stretchily cling to your flat chest. It’s made of the same transparentish pink material as the panties, and only a band of the white, frilly lace saves your nipples the indignity of being flaunted around like that. You shrug it on, tugging it down where it bunches up.

Fucking finally (you haven’t even started yet and you want this to be over with) you get started on the dress. It’s a lighter pink than your underwear. It’s got a built in corset, as evidenced by the intersecting ribbons on the back. You think about loosening and putting it on, but then how would you tighten it up back again? You’d have to ask Bro for help and… no. You’ve got to, you have to, to get ready before you face him. Get dressed, get used to it, and take some deep breaths. You don’t know if you’d be able to control your reactions like a proper coolkid if Bro was with you here for all of this, from the beginning.

So you just take a deep breath to make yourself as thin as possible and then wriggle your way into the dress like it’s an insanely tight shirt. You breathe out when you finally get it over your head. Ouch. Your ribs are already hurting. You hope Bro will let you take this off before you get to business, you really don’t want to do the do in something you wouldn’t even strife in.

There are no sleeves, and it doesn’t cover your upper back, but only so little of it that your bra (you wince at the your) isn’t even visible. It instead secures itself with a big ribbon on the back of your neck. There’s a smaller ribbon on your chest, and a bigger one on your ass. There are, in general, a whole lot of ribbons. And lace. The skirt flares out and stops before going past your knees. It swishes and bounces as you go get the shoes.

There’s a light pink rose on top of each of them. You guess it’s at least finally a departure from the endless deluge of lace and ribbons. What you’re worried about though is the heels. They’re not short kitten heels either. Either way, you put them on, stepping into them.

You take a moment to adjust to the feeling of only standing on your toes, the heels of your feet artificially raised. You’re definitely not running around in these any time soon. The thought of tripping in front of Bro flashes through your mind, and you grimace before quickly schooling your expression back into its usual mask of stoicism. Maybe a few practice laps around your room first before you go and find him, just walking, trying to find your new, temporary balance.

You turn, take a few shaky steps—

Something catches the light as you move, glinting. On top of your closet. You were sure there wasn’t anything shiny up there the last time you checked? You walk towards it and have a closer look.

It is.

It is a camera.

Abruptly you feel like you’re in several places at once. Your face is in the hot Sahara desert as you realize you just got naked and then cross-dressed (still are) in front of who-knows-how-many strangers. Probably thousands, considering how profitable your Bro’s porn site is. Your stomach is plunged into the deep waters of Antarctica as you imagine hundreds of strangers jacking it to you in a skirt. Your mind is somewhere cool and quiet and impossibly distant, like the void of space, as you process all of this.

You. You feel so. Humiliated.

Gritting your teeth you reach out as fast as a snake and grab the camera, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it with your shoes. You remember just a moment too late that you’re wearing heels, and you fall. At least your Bro taught you how to break your fall correctly.

Your face is painfully hot and your eyes are stinging. It’s made all the worse for the fact you’re _hard god damn it_. Not despite everything either, but because of it. Why are you so weird? So fucking fucked up? Your reaction is more mortifying than what just happened.

Breathing harshly through your nose, heart thundering, you get up slowly, haltingly, and then you just stand there.

You decide to change your clothes again. You’re sick of looking like some kind of kinky Barbie doll, while you just know that Bro’s sitting in his room, wearing a white polo, black pants, a cap, shades, and editing the footage you just gave him like a chump. He’ll almost definitely strife you to within an inch of your life tomorrow for breaking one of his cameras. Whatever. Like it’s anything new. You consider destroying the outfit as well while you’re at it, considering you’re already in trouble anyways, but change your mind.

He’d just see it as a challenge to get something worse.


End file.
